


Carnation: My Heart Aches For You

by writeitininkorinblood



Series: Flower Language [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Florist AU, Flower Language, M/M, Modern AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh god, it’s him.”<br/>Jack grabbed Race’s arm, pulling him to a stop as they walked along the high street on their way back to the apartment they shared. Race looked down at the death grip Jack had on his arm and raised an eyebrow.<br/>“Who? Santa? Jesus? Freddy Krueger? You’re going to have to be more specific.” He scanned the road for anyone that Jack would find death-grip worthy, but all he found were senior citizens and mums with young children.<br/>“The man who works in the flower shop. Over there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnation: My Heart Aches For You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where the whole florist thing came from...

 

“Oh god, it’s him.”

Jack grabbed Race’s arm, pulling him to a stop as they walked along the high street on their way back to the apartment they shared. Race looked down at the death grip Jack had on his arm and raised an eyebrow. 

“Who? Santa? Jesus? Freddy Krueger? You’re going to have to be more specific.” He scanned the road for anyone that Jack would find death-grip worthy, but all he found were senior citizens and mums with young children.

“The man who works in the flower shop. Over there.” Jack pointed across the road at the florist with huge glass windows, a dark haired guy smiling behind the counter inside as he served a customer. Jack had been watching him every day for almost a month, but he’d never told anyone about the ridiculous crush he’d developed on a guy he’d never even met. Usually he walked home alone so he had plenty of time to stop and watch the boy for a while (in a definitely not creepy way, Jack tried to convince himself. It wasn’t creepy if you just wanted to look at someone because they made you happy, right…?), but Race had picked him up from work on his way back from Brooklyn and Jack couldn’t keep all his feelings for the florist to himself anymore.

“So you’re surprised that the man who works in the flower shop… is in the flower shop…?” Even for Jack’s logic that was stupid, and Race didn’t have time for it. There was a bag of Doritos back home with his name on it, and that seemed far more important.

“Not surprised, dumbass, just...” Jack trailed off, for once too self-conscious to explain.

Race’s lips curved up to a grin as he realised that a great opportunity to make fun of his flatmate had just been unearthed.

“Ahh, you like him,” he teased, patting Jack’s shoulder patronisingly. Jack pushed his hand away with a scowl.

“Shove off,” he protested, sounding wounded even though all Race had done was state the obvious: he _really_ liked the man in the flower shop. So what if he’d never spoken to him before? He’d seen how kind he was to customers. How he gave a free flower to a little girl as she waited for her mum, tucking it behind her ear and saying something to make her laugh. How he had a smile for everyone, even first thing on a Monday morning. That was all the information Jack needed to know that the man was someone he could love.

Race was less convinced.

“When have you ever set foot in a flower shop in your entire life?” he asked, with suspicion in every word.

“I haven’t,” Jack admitted, determined not to blush.

“So you’ve never even spoken to the guy?” Race’s eyes grew larger as he realised exactly how love-struck Jack was over a man whose name he probably didn’t even know. A real life Marius and Cosette, with all the just-barely-not-creepy stalking included.

“Nope.”

“And you don’t even know if he’s gay?” Unless Jack had seen the guy with another man, Race was pretty confident he had no idea. And based on how taken with the man Jack was, Race was certain that had the guy inadvertently broken Jack’s heart, he’d have heard about it. Most likely primarily in the form of lamenting love ballads blaring from Jack’s phone.

“Not a clue.”

“But yet you’re completely whipped?” Race smirked.

Jack was too busy watching the man across the road help an elderly man pick out a bunch of flowers.

“Yea-” he began, before processing what Race had asked him and indignantly protesting. “Wait, what? No. I just… he has nice eyes.” He prayed Race didn’t ask him how he’d even seen the man’s eyes. Because he hadn’t, but he imagined them to be a rich dark brown, warm and inviting. But that was far worse than admitting he liked a man he’d never met; he wasn’t about to reveal just how much time he spent daydreaming about him.

“You’re worst than Romeo.” Race laughed. He ducked round the corner, gesturing for Jack to follow him so they weren’t stood as conspicuously in the middle of the pavement if the florist were to turn his attention to the road outside his shop.

“Hey!” Jack objected, “no one’s worse than Romeo.”

“I dunno, mate,” Race pretended to ponder the situation. “I think you’re definitely in the running for the title of sappiest idiot."

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his friend to hide the insecurity threatening to bubble up inside him. He wasn’t being sappy, he genuinely liked the florist and, fair enough, most of that was based on an aesthetic attraction, but he loved the little he did know about the man and, god, did he want to find out more.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “Can you find out about him for me? If he’s gay?”

Once the idea popped into Jack’s head it seemed perfect. He overlooked every plausible flaw, stifling them with the hope that he might be able to learn more about the man without having to talk to him himself. He was convinced he’d accidentally reveal his attraction for the man if they spoke face to face. The way he saw it, he had two options: get over his stupid crush, or get his crush under him, and neither was going to happen if he just mooned over him from across a road. If Race came back and said the man was definitely straight, then Jack would be able to move on. He wouldn’t let himself walk past the shop anymore until he was sure he wasn’t going to go through everything all over again upon seeing him. And if Race came back certain the man was gay, Jack could work on asking him out, and things could go from there. But first he needed one vital piece of information and Race seemed to be his only hope. Unfortunately, he was less than willing.

“You want me to be your wingman… in a flower shop?” Race asked in disbelief. “That might be the weirdest request I’ve ever got from you, which is really saying something. How exactly am I meant to bring up that conversation? ‘Hi, nice peonies you got there, my friend was wondering if you liked dick’?” Actually, he thought, that might work. Simple, yet effective.

‘No…” Jack’s face was flushed. He thought for a second to build up a plan. “Buy some flowers, slowly introduce the subject.”

Race was even less convinced. “What am I going to do with a bunch of flowers?” he asked skeptically.

“Give them to Spot?” Jack shrugged. He didn’t really care what Race did with the flowers, he just wanted to find out what colour the florist’s eyes really were so he could adjust his daydreams accordingly.

Race snorted. “Are you out of your mind? He’d think I was insane.” He shook his head. There was no way he could give Spot flowers. That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. They’d agreed there would be no romance, no Valentines gifts or roses. Granted that had been over three years ago, but neither of them had ever gone against the rule. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give Spot flowers, it was that he was afraid of the reaction he’d get. They weren’t meant to be in love with each other, that was the deal. And flowers tended to mean _I love you._ Race swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat and finished his point. “This is Spot Conlon we’re talking about. He’d just throw them away.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Jack said, more softly than normal. He could tell there was a deeper reason Race was uncomfortable. “Because you chose them for him.”

Race forced out a laugh, cringing when it sounded more strained than he’d hoped.

“I think you overestimate Spot’s feelings for me,” he mumbled. “I cannot just go home with a bunch of flowers for him.”

“I think you underestimate his feelings for you. And considering you just called Spot’s apartment ‘home’, I think you might underestimate your feelings for him, too.” Jack smirked as Race’s face turned red, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“I hate you,” Race growled, annoyed at getting caught out. He snuck a glance at Jack to try and see if he’d been hurt by Race calling Brooklyn, and more specifically Spot’s apartment, his home, instead of the place he shared with Jack. But he just looked amused.

“Look, this is perfect,” Jack tried to explain. “Say you want some flowers for your boyfriend, and then see how he reacts.”

Race had to admit that it was a sensible plan, especially compared to the ones Jack usually came up with.

“…Fine,” he sighed, “You owe me for this, Kelly.” He kicked off the wall he’d been leaning against and started round the corner, only turning around when he heard Jack call after him.

“Hey, Race? Actually give the flowers to Spot. Trust me.” Jack smiled reassuringly at him and Race rolled his eyes.

“Nothing good has ever come of trusting Jack Kelly…”

 

Jack was pacing up and down the pavement, wringing his hands together. He was terrified Race was going to come back and say the man was straight, but he had no idea what he’d do if he was gay. ‘Hi, I’ve been watching you through your shop window for the past month and I think you’re perfect, please go out with me, and also your eyes are as beautiful as I imagined’ was not the best pick up line.

As soon as Race came back round the corner, a bouquet of flowers awkwardly clenched in his fist, Jack pounced on him.

“And?!” he asked, desperate for answers. He searched Race’s face in an attempt to know what had happened more quickly than could be explained with words.

“You owe me ten pounds for the flowers,” Race yawned, pretending he was bored of the entire subject. Life was only fun if you got to torture Jack a little bit. “Considering I only got them because you bullied me into it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Jack waved the request away. He had bigger problems to worry over than losing £10. “But about the guy?”  
Race looked at Jack for a moment, taking in the desperation in his eyes and the way there was an almost unnoticeable shake to his hands. He was really, really invested in the sexuality of the florist. Race realised just how much the stranger meant to Jack already, and took pity on him.

“His name is David,” he began, stifling a grin as Jack’s eyes lit up at the information. “And he might be gay. He smiled a little more when I said I needed something for my boyfriend. But then again he might also just be a decent human being instead of a homophobe. Either way, you’re probably safe to ask him out without getting punched in the face.” Race gave Jack a rare supportive smile.

Jack sifted through the information. So the man, _David_ , wouldn’t hate him if he asked him out. But he didn’t want a polite rejection, he wanted a date. Actually, he wanted multiple dates, and kisses and mornings after, but he may have been getting ahead of himself.

“I’m going to talk to him. Wait for me?” He knew Race was going to refuse, but he didn’t really mind; he didn’t want an audience for the plan that was forming in his mind.

“Hell no,” Race replied as expected, already taking a step in the direction of their apartment. “It’s cold. See you at home.”

“You’re keeping the flowers?” Jack asked, only a hint of teasing in his voice as he jumped in front of Race to stop him in his tracks.

“Yeah,” Race mumbled, a little embarrassed. “I was going to…” He trailed off, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.

“Give them to Spot?” It wasn’t even a question.

“…Yeah,” Race admitted, looking at the primroses in his hand and trying not to imagine Spot looking angry and disgusted when he got given them.

“Good.” Jack nodded approvingly, stepping aside out of Race’s way.

He ignored Race’s muttering of ‘none of your damn business’, and got out his phone. His plan was probably ridiculous and potentially the cheesiest thing he’d ever considered doing, but it also seemed just a little perfect. He pulled up a list of flower meanings, scanning down the list for exactly what he wanted.

With a deep sigh to try and work up the courage to go through with his idea, he crossed the road and finally walked into the shop.

 

The first thing Jack noticed was the colour of David’s eyes. The florist had looked up immediately when the bell above the door had jingled merrily, and Jack was suddenly cursing his daydreams for being so inaccurate. Because David’s eyes were a blue that Jack was certain he’d never seen before, and would never see again. They were eyes you could swim in, the blue of a perfectly undisturbed ocean. Jack gulped, forcing his legs to keep moving.

“Hi. Can I help you?” David asked, putting down his pen and standing up straighter, a welcoming smile entertaining his lips.

Jack knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. After so long seeing the man with a road and a window between them, he was breathless to be so close to him. It took David’s smile dropping in confusion for Jack to finally talk.

“Carnation. I need a red carnation,” he stammered, proud of himself for getting the words out.

David’s smile returned and he crossed the small shop to a bucket of carnations.

“How many?” he asked.

“Just one.” Jack knew it was a weird request, but he only needed one for his plan. According to the site he’d found carnations stood for _fascination_ , and red ones in particular meant _my heart aches for you_. It was hyperbolical, but Jack couldn’t deny it was accurate.

David gave him a strange look but chose a single stem and presented it to Jack to check he liked it. Jack’s hands were shaking as he paid for it, but with every moment he got surer and surer of what he was going to do.

“Thanks for your custom. I really appreciate it,” David smiled, expecting Jack to leave now he had the flower he said he wanted.

“Here.” Jack held out the flower and David’s face fell to a sad frown.

“Is it not want you want? I can get you another…” He’d chosen the best flower he could find for the attractive customer and he was disheartened to see him offer it back.

“No, it’s for you.” Jack rushed through the words. He wasn’t sure if he wanted David to be able to understand what the flower meant or not. He’d shown no indication that he did, but he had to be used to customers just buying the flowers they found pretty instead of the ones that meant something.

“Oh!” David exclaimed, surprised and flattered, if a little confused. “Oh, thank you. You don’t have to... I mean…”

“It’s yours,” Jack insisted.

David’s cheeks flushed a dark red as he gently took the flower from Jack, their fingers brushing together for all of a second, but enough to speed up Jack’s heart.

“Thank you,” David whispered, holding the flower reverently.

Jack turned from the counter and almost ran out of the shop, terrified of David’s reaction. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t quite believe he’d actually gone through with his idea. It seemed to have worked, but David might have been too surprised to react with the distaste he really felt.

 

Jack managed to find the courage to go back the next day on his day back from work. He bought a daffodil instead, handing it over to David without a word and backing out of the shop whilst David gently ran the flower through his fingers. Daffodil: _You’re the only one._

The day after than it was a tiny posy of three camellias: pink, red and white. Camellia: _Admiration_ , _Perfection_ ; pink: _Longing for you_ , red: _You’re a flame in my heart_ , white: _You’re adorable_. Each day he went back to the shop and bought a flower from Davey, all with a meaning he wanted to convey. From gardenias, _You’re Lovely, Secret Love_ , to lily-of-the-valley, _You’ve Made My Life Complete_ , he pressed them into David’s hand and hastily made his exit. He had no idea how David felt about them, not knowing that each night the florist went home and pressed Jack’s most recent gift in between the pages of a heavy book on a shelf. He hadn’t thought to consider what they meant, but he appreciated the little gifts. He had no idea if Jack meant them to be a romantic notion, or if they were meant to be tokens of friendship, or even if he was making fun of him, but he couldn’t help but keep them.

David hadn’t gotten to know his most frequent customer very well, barely getting a name out of him, but he couldn’t help but wait in earnest for him to appear every evening. He loved seeing which flower Jack would choose for him, random varieties and colours that seemed to have no pattern, but he’d be happy to just see Jack, no purchase and gift necessary.

Almost three weeks after Jack had first walked into the shop, Race talked him into asking David out on a date. He’d bought David almost every flower that reflected how he felt for him; from a primrose, _I can’t live without you_ , to a magenta zinnia, _Lasting Affection_ ; and Race reasoned that any guy who accepted a daily gift of flowers from another man with a smile on his face, was at least bicurious. Jack had nothing to lose.

He chose his final flowers carefully. Tulips, because they meant _Perfect Lover_ and sue him if he wanted to plant the idea in David’s brain. He went with red, _Declaration of Love_ , Yellow, _There’s Sunshine in Your Smile_ , and a variegated flower, _Beautiful Eyes_. It was perfect.

He barely even stalled on a word when he asked David if he wanted to go to dinner with him.

“Well,” David looked around the empty shop, “I guess I’m hardly losing business. Yeah, go on then. Did you have somewhere in mind?”

Jack suppressed a grin and offered a nearby café. He wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d chosen it carefully for the beautiful flowers they decorated the tables with. He wanted everything to work out. This was meant to be a perfect first date.

For once, they talked. Jack found out that David preferred Davey and that he’d inherited the flower shop from his uncle just over a year earlier. Davey finally found out something more about Jack than his name, and he couldn’t deny that everything he learned increased the feelings he had for him. He promised himself he’d ask Jack out, when he came round to the shop the next evening. There was no point in ruining a nice meal now, if Jack turned him down.

Jack fingers itched, the urge to take Davey’s hand almost so strong that he thought he’d have to sit on his own hands so he wouldn’t give in. He was going to let Davey lead this. There hadn’t been another relationship in his entire life that he wanted to work out as much, and he wasn’t going to jeopardise it by moving too fast.

“Let me walk you home,” he said at the end of the date. He was determined to be a gentleman, even if it meant more of the torture of being close enough to hold Davey’s hand but not having the permission

“Oh, you really don’t have to,” Davey protested, although he liked the idea of the meal feeling a little like a date, even if he knew it wasn’t one. Yet.

“I want to.’

Jack sounded certain and Davey nodded almost shyly, glad to have a little more of his company.

They continued to talk like they’d known each other for years, every step from the café to the door of Davey’s apartment above the shop filled with chatter. Once they reached the door, Jack said his goodbyes and almost went to walk away. But he thought he saw a tiny glint of disappointment in Davey’s eye and let himself have one moment of spontaneity for the evening. He leaned forward, wanting to gently brush his lips across Davey’s, just once, before he had to go. Only instead Davey jumped backward.

“What!?” he exclaimed, so much confusion in his eyes that Jack’s heart ached.

“Sorry, I should have…” he petered out, sadly. “I just figured that people usually kiss after dates that go well, and I thought that went well. Sorry if it actually sucked. We don’t have to do it again, if you don’t want.” He shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets, wanting to run and never return, but feeling he owed Davey a proper apology.

‘That was a date?!” Davey gasped, his hand covering his mouth. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even been aware that when Jack had asked him to dinner he’d meant _dinner_. Every missed opportunity to hold Jack’s hand or kiss his cheek flashed before his eyes and he begrudgingly added the kiss goodbye to the list.

Jack was staring at the floor, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the pavement and trying to wish himself anywhere else.

“I know it wasn’t all that,” he said, embarrassed, “but I don’t have a lot of money and-”

“No!” Davey protested, horrified that his attempts to explain were going so badly. “It’s not that. I just… I had no idea that it was actually a date.” It was his turn to hang his head, ashamed he’d been so oblivious.

“Oh… But the flowers… I bought the ones that said what you… what you meant to me. In flower language. I googled it and everything,” Jack mumbled, still not making eye contact with anything but his shoes.

“I didn’t think to look them up…” He made a mental note to search the meaning of them all once he was inside, to find out what he’d missed. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m an idiot. You’re probably not even gay.”

Jack turned to walk away, embarrassed and upset and wanting to be as far from Davey as possible. But Davey reached out and grabbed his hand, desperate to make him understand.

“Jack, wait! I’m definitely gay. And, if you’ll have me even after I managed to royally screw up and not even notice I was on what was, in hindsight, a lovely date, I would love to go out with you again.” His voice had gone quiet, the shyness from being under Jack’s gaze affecting his confidence.

Jack was stunned by disbelief, but after a moment of silence he gently took both of Davey’s hands and coaxed him to look up at him.

“Could I kiss you after that date?” he asked, wanting to triple check they were on the same page.

“Why wait?” Davey whispered, gently pulling one of his hands back and using it to tilt Jack’s cheek so he could press their lips together. Jack was ready for the kiss, pulling Davey closer and winding his arms around his back as he kissed back, nipping at Davey’s bottom lip just to make him gasp. He couldn’t quite believe he was finally kissing the man who’d occupied so much of his thoughts for nearly two months.

When Davey finally managed to pull himself away from Jack, a woman walking past helping by making him shy away from the kiss, he whispered a goodbye and darted into his flat, shutting the door quickly and slumping against it. For a moment he grinned dizzily to himself, dazed as he lifted his hand to trace his tingling lips with his fingertips. And then he remembered what Jack had said about the flowers he’d been buying him. The flowers he’d carefully pressed inside the book on his shelf.

He carefully eased the dictionary off the shelf and flicked through the pages to collect all the dried flowers before fanning them out across the floor. There were almost twenty of them, with a few repeated varieties that Davey supposed Jack had wanted to stress the meaning of. He pulled up the internet on his laptop, translating each flower’s message as best he could. By the time he had finished his cheeks were flushed. There was no way Jack meant all that, no way he _felt_ all that. But, as Davey subconsciously rubbed over his lips again, he realised that maybe Jack did feel all of that. And maybe he felt it all for Jack, too.

The next evening, when Jack bashfully dropped by the shop again, Davey silently handed him a purple hyacinth and a jonquil, a hopeful smile on his lips. _I’m sorry. Affection returned._


End file.
